Читать книгу The Blood Road - Stuart MacBride - Страница 21

About three or four miles past Rothienorman, Rennie pulled the car off the back road and onto a potholed strip of tarmac lined by ragged beech hedges and waterlogged fields. He slowed to a crawl, slaloming between the craters. Sheep watched them from the high ground, wool faded to ash-grey by the rain.

The windscreen wipers squealed. Thumped. Squealed. Thumped.

They took a right, through a farmyard with warning notices about livestock and gates and unsolicited callers and bewaring of the dogs. Past agricultural equipment and barns and outbuildings and a ramshackle farmhouse, then out the other side – onto a rough track with a solid Mohican of grass down the middle.

Another right, past a couple of cottages lurking in a block of trees, and up the hill. Fields full of reeds and docken.

A gorse bush scraped and screamed along the car’s bodywork.

More trees. A tumble-down bothy with half its roof missing. Someone was standing in front of it, chopping logs. He stopped, axe over his shoulder, watching them pass.

Logan gave him a smile and a wave. Got nothing back.

Rennie sniffed. ‘God, welcome to Banjo Country.’

Past a stack of big round bales, rotting and slumped in the rain.

‘All together now: “Squeal piggy!” Diga-ding ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding…’

More trees. Getting thicker. Crowding the road.

They kept on going, right to the end of the track. A sagging gate blocked the way, wrapped in chicken wire and peppered with signs: ‘BEWARE OF THE DOG!’, ‘PLEASE SHUT THE GATE!’, ‘NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCH AREA’ and ‘SKEMMELSBRAE CROFT’.

A new-ish house sat about a hundred yards further on, just visible through the trees and tussocked grass. Two storeys high, pale pink harling darkened by moisture. Lurking in the woods. The only thing missing was a roof made of gingerbread and a small child cooking in the oven.

Rennie nodded towards it. ‘You want to get the gate?’

‘I’d love to, but…’ Logan sucked a breath in through his teeth. ‘Inspector, remember?’

‘Gah…’ Rennie climbed out into the rain. Hurried over and fiddled with the gate. Then hurried back to the car again. ‘It’s padlocked. But there’s a car in the drive and a light’s on.’

Great.

Logan grimaced at the downpour, tucked the case file under his fleece, pulled on his hat and high-viz jacket, then joined Rennie in the cold and damp. Branches loomed overhead, dark and oppressive. But at least they kept some of the rain off.

Rennie clambered over the gate and froze, arms out, shoulders hunched. ‘Arrgh… Right in a puddle.’

Idiot.

Logan climbed over, making sure not to step in the dirty brown lake spreading on either side of the track’s central ridge. He picked his way along the middle bit, past more trees, around a corner, and there was the house.

A big four-by-four sat outside it, along with a filthy blue-and-white horsebox. The light above the door glowed a septic yellow.

Not exactly welcoming.

They were about twenty foot from the house when barking exploded into the damp air.

Rennie froze, staring. ‘Dear God, that’s a massive dog.’

It looked more like a bear than a dog. About the same size as a bear too, covered in thick black hair. Saggy eyes and jowls. Teeth the size of traffic cones. Well, maybe not traffic cones, but big enough. Thankfully it was shut into a kennel / run thing at the side of the house.

Beardog launched itself at the bars of its cage and they shook with a boom and a rattle.

Rennie gave a small tittering laugh. ‘Nice doggy. Don’t eat the lovely policemen …’ He scrambled up the steps and sheltered beneath the small porch, casting worried glances at the massive scary animal as it fell silent.

Logan joined him. Rang the doorbell.

Rennie flinched as the barking started up again. ‘What if she’s not in?’

‘Then we got wet for nothing. You should’ve phoned ahead.’

His bottom lip popped out. ‘But you keep telling me off for doing that! They always find a way to sneak off, you said. You can’t trust them, you said.’

‘Yes, but I was talking about police officers, you total—’

A woman’s silhouette appeared on the other side of the glass-panelled door, growing clearer the closer she came. Tall, with dark eyes and full lips, long brown hair falling over her shoulders. A hint of crow’s-feet and what probably weren’t laughter lines. A soft blue sweater and faded jeans. She didn’t open the door. ‘Who is…’ Her eyes widened as she looked Logan up and down. ‘Oh God. It’s… I didn’t…?’

‘Mrs MacAuley? Can we come in and have a word, please? It’s about your son and husband.’